A Peace of Heaven
by Alice In Eden
Summary: Olivia "Olive" Carlisle, a strange twelve year old in modern-day 2002, has a fateful encounter with a demon. After one hundred years, Ciel is still hungry for souls, especially ones with traces of innocence, but can he devour this one? Ciel x OC.
1. The Secret Door

**A Peace of Heaven**

**Chapter One: The Secret Door**

* * *

_What was it that made it that made an innocent soul so irreversibly insatiable?_

Ciel thought to himself in the blistering summer of 2002. During such excruciating times, Ciel found it useful to distract himself with his voracious hunger. This said hunger was thwarted every year for the past 114 years, by the impossible, dreadful heat. Like most Southern summers, the humans dripped with sweat, blending their scents in a putrid mix, thus making it impossible to hunt.

Digressing, Ciel hated this time of year. He hated the iced teas, the loud, noisy parades, and most of all the Americans and their intolerable accents. Oh, how he hated the United States, and longed to return to his remote castle on the outskirts of Britain, next to the gray, churning ocean. At the very least, he was still the same, brooding young man he had been all those years ago.

Sebastian, however, loved spending every summer here, and he hated England for all it was worth. He enjoyed the blatant fact that humans worshipped him – unknowingly, of course. Though, the true reason behind his love of Mardi Gras was that it irritated his young master to no end. At least Ciel was a decent enough master to allow Sebastian this single time of year as a vacation. Even so, the boy was still a horrible brat following the holiday.

"You should not have come, Ciel." Sebastian sneered, earning him a sharp look from the boy. Honestly, what sort of Hell could Ciel Phantomhive put the demon-butler through that he hadn't already experienced in 114 years?

"This is your last warning, Sebastian, if you call me that again, I shall order you to destroy and rebuild Elizabethan Castle again." Ciel warned lethally, though his tone softened when he spoke of his late-fiancée's name. In his own way, Ciel missed her. Why, he had even shown a spark of jealousy when she was reengaged to some noble from Germany. Oh, how he stalked the Nazi – driving him to near insanity for years – until the demon Earl finally devoured the mad man's soul. Perhaps, if he wasn't so calloused, Ciel might have even cried when Elizabeth and her three children died in a flurry of bombs prior to the end of the First World War. Yet, as was expected from him, Ciel was stoic and aloof.

"Perhaps some of that 'cotton candy' would improve your temperament." Sebastian suggested, noticing his masters' mood taking a turn for the worst. _Hormones._ The butler thought, rolling his eyes. He had experienced a similar problem: staying the same age forever was difficult to process at times.

So, Sebastian held a small measure of sympathy for the boy, whom he was consequently damned to serve for eternity. The brat was unfortunately turned prior to his fourteenth birthday, though, which made him forever moody… He was a one-hundred year old man trapped in a child's body, in other words.

Ciel huffed, indignantly, which Sebastian took as a 'no' from the previous Earl. Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis had died 114 years ago, and the two wealthy brothers, Ciel and Sebastian Henry, were now what remained in the, technologically advanced but still barbaric, year of 2002. Of course, their names and residences changed at the end of a typical human lifespan. This was, in fact, the first time they had reverted back to their old names, which left Ciel feeling bitter and melancholy.

"Um, excuse me," A deep female voice interrupted the boys' train of thought. Her impending question was voiced in the direction of Sebastian. "You don't look like you're from around here." She noticed, in that painfully stupid Southern accent. Ciel slapped his hand to his forehead, while Sebastian simply grinned. This all went unnoticed by the girl in front of them; the one Ciel already attributed ignorance and flightiness to. Her soul stunk of it, too. "Well, anyway, I'm looking for my pet cat. I was wondering if you saw him at all."

"What makes you think we saw your pet cat in this bustling crowd of people?" Ciel snapped, finally bringing his gaze to the girl. She was a scraggly thing – looking no older than twelve – with a square face. She was wearing a pink t-shirt and tanned capris, her hair was bobbed with (what were they called?) bangs, and her eyes were almond-shaped and gray-colored. In her slim hands was a large stack of flyers with various color assortments.

The girls' lips pursed. "For your information, I was asking your dad." She replied, looking back up to Sebastian. He wasn't sure whether he should laugh at Ciel's miffed expression, or fret over his appearance – he didn't look old, did he? Women had flung themselves at him in the past…! Why this little… witch…

"I'm afraid I haven't." He replied charismatically, and the girl sighed, sadly.

"Yeah, Whiskers can really get himself in heaps of trouble sometimes. He's a bad cat." She muttered.

"What sort of unimaginative name is Whiskers?" Ciel grumbled, and the girl glared at him.

"What sort of stupid name is Ciel Phantomhive?" She shot back. She paled when she realized her error. "Um, just forget I asked anything. Bye…" Before Ciel could stop her, the girl had disappeared into the crowd.

"How in the world did she…?" Ciel wondered. Sebastian smirked.

"What a curious child, indeed."

* * *

"Did you find Whiskers, dear?" Olive's mother asked that night.

"No. I accidentally read someone's mind, though. They were suspicious people." The bob-haired girl replied, stirring numbly at the pork chops and mashed potatoes on her plate.

"Well, accidents happen, dear."

Olive glanced to where a doll – with black button eyes – sat next to her plate on the table. There were tears in its face and limbs, allowing pieces of cotton to stick out, and burns from where the doll might have caught fire during the preparations of dinner. It meant repairs were in order if Olive wanted to maintain her artificial mother for much longer. Even so, this doll would soon be irreparable just like the last ones, and there was only so much money left over.

Olive could faintly remember her mother. She had left a while ago; she had never said where. Olive's mother was always a quiet, introverted person, which was probably why it made it so difficult for Olive to remember her. Now, Whiskers was gone too!

The home was decorated in 1960s décor, and other items which were yellowed for style, not necessarily out of age. The walls were wood-paneled and the floors were linoleum. The front door had several bronze-colored handles – one for each place it exited to. It was a magical door – one which had survived every war since the beginning of the 20th century. It had been passed down through Olive's family for generations, yet she used it only for practical, non-magical reasons. In other words, it was just a regular door.

Olive looked back to her plate of food, and took a bite. It surprised her when underneath the cheap paper was that old, nearly burnt to a crisp table. Previously, it had been that plastic thing with the blue and green checkered top. Now, it was just burnt, which meant...

_Someone's here._ She quickly stood up, eyes wide and breath stuck in her throat. _How?_

"Did you find Whiskers, dear?' Olive's mother reiterated the same response she had used countless times before. "Well, accidents happen, dear. I love you, Olivia. I will always love you, Olll-eevv…" The motherly voice died down into a low mumble, as though someone had yanked the batteries from a toy. Olive tried to convince herself that the spell had finally worn off, returning the home to its actual state. But, instead, there was a gnawing sense of presence. Someone had broken her spell, and they had somehow found and entered her home.

She was reassured of this when she heard footsteps traveling up the stairs: a set of two, so quiet that normal human ears would never pick up on them. Olive doubted they were humans after tuning in to their thoughts. In fact, they sounded more like predators._  
_

_What shambles,_ thought a familiar, aristocratic male voice. _How could anyone possibly live like this? I suppose it will only make it easier to dispose of the body…_

_That surly looking boy from the parade!_ Olive realized.

_Why must the Young Master ruin __my__ vacation with his nonsensical paranoia every year?_ The other man wondered drearily.

Olive swallowed, and turned her sights to the door. It was the only untouched by flames object in the room, still retaining its old-oak polish. Only a witch could travel through magical doorways, so even if they heard her she could escape to somewhere safe… The sound of Whiskers clawing away at a window upstairs caused Olive's stomach to churn. "Whiskers..." She whispered. He was her only family member. She could never leave him, not that she had much of a chance.

She had wasted too much time simply by standing there. Before the boys' hand even draped over her mouth, she heard his thoughts: _there you are._

"Now that you're closer," He began, his breath cold on her neck. "Your soul smells awfully satisfying. And, how fortuitous! It appears that no one will miss you if you were to suddenly disappear." Olive felt his smile, evil and sinister. "Feel free to beg. I can't stand silent kills."


	2. Repressed Memories

**Chapter Two**  
**Repressed Memories**

* * *

_What is going on?_ Ciel wondered when he became aware again. He felt like he had been hit by a truck (consequently, in his long life, this had happened before). At the same time, he felt this strange sense of… separation. As though something was being ripped from him and crammed somewhere else it didn't belong. He was unaware, at the time, how similar his assessment was to the actual situation he had been brought into, though. He was only aware of the fact that he simply kept falling and falling and falling into an empty void of nothingness and darkness.

* * *

Olive groaned into the damp, empty air. Her first reaction was to press her palm against her forehead, in an effort to numb the ache above her eyebrow. Her body felt heavier than usual, and her stomach churned with nausea and anxiety. After a moment, she forced herself to sit up.  
She examined her surroundings. It was wooded; seemingly concealed and private. Yet, something about the trees provided her with a strong sense of fear which made her hands sweat. She was almost certain that she was being watched.

As with all children, Olive instinctively reached for her mother. It had been nearly a month since the widowed Mrs. Carlisle had gone away on a business trip. It wasn't unusual for her to be gone for so long, but her twelve year-old daughter still fretted. When Olive's hand came away with nothing but her wand, she shuddered. To be so weak and clingy and childlike was disgraceful, and, don't get her wrong, Olive frequently chastised herself for it. However, the worse possible scenario had occurred! Someone had broken her mothers' spell, entered their home uninvited, and tried to EAT her!

But… Even though the young witch hated to admit it, she most definitely _appreciated_ the intrusion. Maybe next time, Mrs. Carlisle would think twice before leaving Olive and that stupid-Satan-cat, Whiskers _(it WAS the little bastards' fault for wandering off for the thousandth time and unintentionally inviting the demons)_, alone again! Luckily, Olive used the rebound spell, and now she was… well, where was she exactly?

Oh yes, that's right: the spooky forest. Louisiana held a great deal of haunted areas, particularly in the woods where rituals had occurred hundreds of years before. Even so, Olive doubted she was in Louisiana anymore. Something about the dreary forest felt unfamiliar.

_"I know this place."_ Olive nearly died when the sudden voice broke through the unnervingly cool air, startling her.

"Who is there?" She squeaked, bringing her wand closer to her chest and backing up.

_"You! Where are you, stupid witch?"_ Ciel demanded, his agitation picking up. He _would_ kill her for causing him so much trouble.

"Just leave me alone!" She cried, attempting bravery. To any villain, it would be blatantly obvious Olivia Carlisle was scared – her knobby knees trembled and she had probably stopped breathing. "I-If you leave now, I'll let you live!"

_"Hah!"_ Ciel snorted, grinning wickedly. Such an innocent soul... he could already taste it. _"I won't bite. Come out of hiding, you little witch. Let's play a game."_

"Let's! Tag, you're it!" Olive shouted, whipping her wand in front of her, thus resulting in her being catapulted backwards. The forest grew more distant as she soared above it. Now that she was higher up, she could see the land. There seemed to have been a rainstorm, since most of it was green and lush - this was uncommon during the summertime. In the distance, she could see what appeared to be a city and a large clock-tower. _Where am I?_

Meanwhile, Ciel, if he wasn't a demon, might possibly have shit his pants with the height that Olive sent him up. _"You witch! You witch! You wiiiiitttttchhhhhh!"_ Gravity yanked him down, returning that feeling of falling. _"Sebastian!"_

* * *

Sebastian jolted himself from his kitchen duties. He had been making an absolutely perfect crème brûlée when he heard his masters' voice. He hadn't even sensed anyone leaving or approaching the manor. Yet, that annoying voice requested him; fifteen miles in the direction of London! How in the _Hell_ did he get all the way over there under his dutiful butlers' nose? Sebastian didn't know whether he should be amused or agitated, but one thing he did understand, fully, was:

Ciel was falling, at an incredibly fast speed from at least one hundred feet in the air.

"Mister Sebastian?" Finny wondered as the butler blew past him towards the entrance. "Where're-?" Sebastian was gone – long-gone. "He sure does run fast." The boy noticed, curiously scratching the back of his head. "Um, what was I going to tell'em again?"

"Finny," Ciel snapped in all of his superciliousness. He was dressed head-to-toe in Victorian Era clothing: a ruffled silk shirt and dark blue trousers, along with his family ring adorning his thumb. "I thought I told you to retrieve Sebastian."

"Oh, 'ello, Young Master! Um, Mister Sebastian just left."

"What?!" Ciel shrieked. "Where in the bloody Hell does he think he's going?"

"Err…Maybe he went to the loo." The gardener responded in his normally cheerful tone.

"I doubt it." Ciel replied starkly. "Inform him that we are to set off to London, _immediately_...upon his return."

Finny saluted the young Earl. "Yes, Young Master, I won't let you down!"

"Oh, just forget it." He replied, but Finny had already disappeared in the direction of the entrance, to wait for the inevitable return of the butler. "Why do I even bother…? …bunch of useless ninny's…" The Earl grumbled this among other things under his breath as he returned upstairs to his study. It seemed that when Sebastian was gone, even for a short time, the entire manor would collapse in on itself. Not even Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, could maintain things without the demon butler… In this way, the boy was very unlike his capable and charismatic father, Vincent.

Ciel paused a moment to view the life-sized portrait of his deceased parents, the exquisite one positioned above the staircase landing. He could only muster a scowl.

_Once something is lost, it can never be brought back._ He reiterated to himself for the umpteenth time.

Little the young Earl knew that such words could never encompass everything. Sometimes, lost items are just inexplicably returned to you. Sebastian also came to realize this upon catching the scraggly, frazzled young girl in midair. Her head bumped against his stone-hard chest as they collided into one another, something Sebastian was sure would have have immediately knocked her out. Instead, her dark blue eyes darted up to him, the right eye glowing a very light, hardly noticeable pink: they were, indeed, Master Ciel's eyes. However, as soon as Sebastian saw them, did they suddenly fade into a murky, gray color.

"You are most certainly not my Young Master." He said.

Horror and astonishment stared back at him. "You…?" She blurted out, before fainting.


	3. For better or for worse

**Chapter Three**

**For better or for worse**

* * *

It had been a remarkably long time since Olive day-dreamed. Perhaps it was because she always slept during the day; though she had a very vivid mind to the point her dreams could be misconstrued as reality. In Olive's short recollection, though, she simply saw her mother. Just as Mrs. Carlisle always looked: soft and smiling, approachable.

Cressida Carlisle, called Sally by everyone she knew, had a plumpness which was lost amongst the modern world in favor of thinness. She had long burgundy colored hair and metallic eyes – a characteristic of the clan that she descended from. In Olive's dream, her mother simply held her, telling her she would be alright. That everything would be alright.

However, Olive didn't feel content or safe as she should have. She, instead, felt Ciel's emotions: irritation, moroseness, surliness, jealousy.

"…_Your mother __**is**__ rather lovely, considering your relation."_ Ciel finally commented in her thoughts.

Olive chose to ignore him _this_ time. He was just trying to be conversational, though most of his topics ended in an insult as this one just had. He was still mildly upset with her.

Ciel's voice echoing inside the space of her mind left her crowded and uneasy, so she hoped by ignoring him he would just go away. Though she knew this wouldn't happen. Regardless, she idly wandered the dirt path which Sebastian informed her lead to London, allowing herself to become completely engrossed in her thoughts.

Their situation was unusual, and without immediate resolution. In short order, Ciel was somehow inside her. Well, in her mind, to be exact.

To add insult to injury, they were in London, England, with the year being 1888. Apparently they also ran the risk of interacting with his past self, which could interfere with the very ravel of time, or that was at least how she explained it to Ciel. Oh, and did he more than give his two-cents on the matter to our poor little witch. Among the things said was, _"I do not care! I order you to return to my manor with Sebastian,"_ which ultimately didn't occur, due to both Sebastian and Olive. Demons and witches had never exactly been on speaking terms. Ever. And Olive simply got the creeps from being around Sebastian.

In fact, how ironic that a demon would become trapped inside of a witch! Yet, we mustn't focus on that now, reader.

"Time travel is impossible." Olive muttered to herself.

"_Reapers can travel through time, can they not?"_ Ciel imposed, and she pursed her lips.

Right as he was, she didn't want to let him have it that easily. "Yes. But in the Reaper realm, time does not pass. So, therefore, it isn't necessarily time travel when they're assigned particular territories."

Ciel shifted uncomfortably in her mind. Silence once again consumed the wooded path. Brief as it was Olive enjoyed it while it lasted. _"Where do you intend on going once you reach London, Olivia?"_ He demanded in a sugar-laced, dripping-of-sarcasm tone. Olive had blocked her thoughts to him again.

"I'm not sure." She responded after a moment. "I have a distant, very-great aunt and uncle, though. So, I figured I'd start there."

"Is she also a witch?" Ciel felt very uncomfortable around these magical folk. To put it simply, his first encounter with one had not ended well, what with the embodiment of his reborn-demon soul being ripped from his body and placed in some foolish, twelve year old girl.

"Yes." She replied, simply. After noticing Ciel's paranoia, she decided to add more. "My distant uncle was a very, _very_ powerful old wizard, but, from the stories my grandparents told me, he refused to use magic at some point in his life. I'm worried he might smell _you_ regardless, though."

"_Do I stink to your kind?"_ Ciel grumbled, indignantly.

Olive blushed. "Um, no… you actually smelled really nice to me… Before we fell through the Door, and our bodies combined that is." She tripped over her own two feet, causing her face to heat up even more. Fortunately, Ciel couldn't actually see her blunder, or so she hoped. "It's just that on my mothers' side… Well, they're sensitive, okay?"

"_I see."_

"Yeah…" Olive rubbed at her neck. She had never once talked to a boy in her life, and seeing Ciel at the Mardi Gras parade… Well, he had been a very cute boy to say the least. "So obviously you weren't born a demon. Demons don't typically form packs, and, when they do, the strongest one is usually served by the weakest one. Not the other way around."

Ciel didn't respond immediately, making it seem he wouldn't say anything. Olive might have worried about offending him, if he hadn't been doing the exact same thing to her earlier. _"No, I wasn't."_ He responded dryly.

"That's never happened before." She pointed out smartly. "How exactly did you get involved with that other demon then…?" She trailed off, involuntarily peeking into Ciel's cinematic record. It was scratchy, hard to see, but he had definitely once been human. She caught a glimmer of a large building on fire, before Ciel pushed her out.

"_What __**are**__ you doing?"_ Ciel snapped, and Olive flinched.

"…I'm sorry, but you've been doing that to me this entire time! What makes you so entitled?" She shouted, defensively.

He didn't say, and Olive adamantly decided she didn't want to know.

They walked along the dirt path, once again in silence. Inwardly, they both struggled to find the right words. Olive wondered if she should apologize, and Ciel debated on killing her on the spot, though they both came to the conclusion they couldn't do so.

The blue sky started to dim into maroon during this time, and the wind settled into a calm breeze. Owls cooed and mice screeched as they were scooped into the claws of their maker. Ciel cringed as the owl gnawed away at the rodents' innards with its sharp beak.

"_Filthy creature…"_ He said, causing his transportation to roll her eyes.

_Well, it looks like the pot's calling the kettle black._ She responded to him, causing Ciel's theoretical feathers to fluff.

Olive wasn't even sure where her uncle and his daughter lived, let alone if they were going to let her freeload off them until she found a way back home. She only hoped that the blood bond between the families in magical households was far stronger than that of human ones. If that were the case, her distant relatives would recognize her immediately. She buried the concern that her fathers' human scent would hide who she actually was, deciding to leave the matter be until the time came for it.

Yet as night drew closer, her legs grew tired, and the path became denser and less inhabited, Olive began to doubt she would ever make it to London.

"We've been walking for hours… Maybe I took a wrong turn somewhere." She muttered, glancing around at the familiar trees and rock structures, along with the vines encasing it all. That couldn't be right, she had been walking straight the entire time. She wrenched down and dug up a handful of pebbles from the damp dirt. "I'm going to mark the path." She answered to Ciel's curious, unvoiced thoughts. "This way I know if we're just going in circles…"

"_I doubt that will make much a difference."_ The demon interrupted her, his tone cold. _"I've been canvassing the area for the countless hours you've spent uselessly dawdling in it. A thought occurred to me when I noticed that owl feasting upon that rodent. This is a maze, you are the prey, and Sebastian is the predator."_

Olive's skin rose in bumps, and she dropped the pebbles simultaneously. "Is he going to eat me?" She asked, eyeing all of the shadowed areas behind bushes and trees.

"_No. He is simply watching you, waiting. As to what he is waiting for I am unsure."_ Ciel replied, but tensed when he noticed tears brimming in his transportation's eyes. _"From my century spent with Sebastian, I've come to realize he is a rather perverse creature."_ He said quickly, attempting to comfort the child. _"He desires to see you struggle for freedom, and that is what you shall give him. Give the bastard a little show, to satisfy his sick pleasures. If that does not work, he will, at some point, have to return to the past me, and escape will therefore become manageable. Understood?"_

She nodded, wiping away her sweat, snot, and tears with the back of her hand. "Okay… I just miss my mom."

Ciel didn't respond. What sort of response did she expect from him? _If you die, Miss Carlisle, I shall become one of those bodiless demons who prey upon the weak through possession._ That would _surely_ put her mind at ease. He realized the importance of giving Olive an answer, though, to reassure her to keep going for his own self-gratification, but he couldn't find one.

The most blatant answer he could conjure up would go something like 'she carried him around… and she was the only person who had the ability to do that… for now. Soon, though, the effects of his powerful soul inside her would take its toll… and she would die a horribly painful death. Blah, blah, blah.'

Ciel just could _not_ come up with anything comforting, which frustrated him more than it ought to. He had always been an impatient young man, and Sebastian chided him on it. Temporarily, at a loss for any other confirmation, he could only say, _"Everything will be alright."_

When Ciel felt the flutter of her heart and the embarrassment reddening on her cheeks, he knew that his words would permanently affect them both. For better or for worse.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Alright, so I'm writing this story from the beginning of the anime. I will incorporate more of the manga later, though. For Ciel's character, I was inspired by **ghostwriter1341**'s story, _Phantom of the Theater_, which I recommend you read. The situation between Olive and Ciel was inspired by **Distant-Moon**'s story, _Happy Endings_, and her two unique characters, _Julie and Ayla_. I strongly recommend you read this epic saga.

Anyway, Olivia "Olive" Carlisle is a witch-in-training, only able to perform the single 'rebound' spell. To give you a better idea of what she looks like, I'm putting a bio below. I hope you guys have enjoyed the story so far. Please REVIEW!

**Olivia "Olive" E. Carlisle**

Age: 12

Birthday: August 15, 1990

Body type: 5'3", lanky, thin, and bony; tanned skin; light brown hair in a bob; light gray eyes – Caucasian


	4. Blackjack

**Chapter Four**

**Blackjack**

* * *

_How curious._ Sebastian thought, eyeing the scrawny girl as she wandered the wooded maze. _She talks to no one, but speaks with such vigor._ Sebastian sensed a demons' presence inside her from their very first encounter. Usually "possession-demons" tended to drive their victim simultaneously to insanity and later death, but the girl seemed coherent, stoic even. Though he could see straight through her façade. The fear was not only quite evident in her eyes, but she reeked of it as well.

Sebastian felt the fast-paced thrumming of the girls' soul. Something about it was inhuman, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The demons' soul was repressing it far too much. Any more pressure within the next 24 hours and the girls' soul would pop like a pimple.

"Is he going to eat me?" Her metallic-gray eyes involuntarily darted to Sebastian's hiding place, and he quickly hid himself behind the large trunk of the tree. A few moments of silence passed, before she muttered something about her mother, and began walking again.

Sebastian smirked before standing to his full height. _It seems as though that demon has also sensed me, and has prepared its bodice for an attack. Its endeavors are in vain. She shall be pointlessly clinging to life by the morn, dispelling the creature within her and allowing me a peak at her intriguing soul._

His red eyes glowed as he left the girl to her own demise. He waltzed quietly in the direction of the manor, allowing a wicked smile to spread across his face when he heard the girls' startled scream.

_Like a small, weak mouse in the claws of a cat._ Sebastian mused, wandering what would await him in the morning. He was tempted to steal a glance now, but upon hearing the bell ringing from the manor, signaling his young masters' need for him, he disregarded the thought. _I ought to feed her flesh to that brat. _The demon butler thought, evilly.

* * *

"_Only you could have fallen through a trap door, you ignorant girl!"_ Ciel snapped as Olive pulled herself up off the ground. At least the pieces of wood from the hidden door had sheltered her poor buttocks from the fall, though nothing could be said for her racing heart. She softly patted her behind, staring up at the entrance. It had to be at least ten feet up.

"W-Where's my wand?" She whimpered, rubbing at her dampened eyes, causing dirt to smear over her cheeks. Ciel had been ordering her around the entire time. He went from genial, to being a total ass in a matter of seconds! But Olive kept face, though her blunder had been the cherry on top of the terrible evening.

"_What do you think broke your fall?"_ Ciel snapped.

Olive looked, in horror, at her broken wand. Tears immediately began to roll down her cheeks, and she let out a sob. Ciel's cruel, careless statement had finally broken the already damaged dam of Olive's emotions. "I hate this place!"

"_!" What in the world is the matter with her?_ He wondered.

"_Quit being such a cry-baby, will you?"_ The demon boy nervously instructed. He hadn't done anything wrong! He had only given her clear, firm orders, and now she was crying! He anticipated this sort of reaction from Elizabeth, but not from this obstinate urchin. If she allowed herself to break down so easily, Ciel concluded that they wouldn't live long in his timeline. It was to be expected, however, from her generation, given that children had become coddled, self-centered, and disrespectful brats over the past century.

"Shut up! I hate you, too! This is all your fault!" Nothing could prevent Olive from crying. She felt so lost and scared, even though she tried to put on a face to impress the voice in her head. Well, that just sounded crazy when she thought about it that way. That of which, we can presume, is why she kept on with her grief-stricken wails, in spite of the impatient boys' hearsay.

Olive would never disagree she had fully embraced the cushioned lifestyle provided by her loving, protective parents. They shielded her form the cruelty of everyday life, something which Ciel would deem as 'coddled' though to Olive it felt normal. She was a clingy, emotional child who had no dealings with the world. The only hardship she knew of was death, although it didn't leave Olive empty or stricken as it might have other girls her age.

Instead of becoming cross and withdrawn after her father died in their house fire, Olive and Cressida became even closer. And even though Cressida had been gone for three weeks on a business trip, Olive always held dearly the fact her mother would return. Now, though, it became depressingly obvious that Olive might never see her mother again. The painful feeling of having that half torn away was indescribable.

Olive collapsed to her butt, brought her knees to her chest, and cried for what seemed like hours. Ciel had tuned out, having grown tired of listening to her pointless tears. He was either unaware or gruffly ignored the fact that he and Olive were experiencing a similar loss.

"_Of all the mindless females I was to be damned in combination with, it had to be the overly-emotional one."_ Ciel grumbled. His Sebastian would have scoffed at the hypocrisy of the statement.

"I'm sorry that I'm not stronger." Olive responded quietly, burying her face in her knobby knees. "It's a belief in my family that even if you are ridiculously out-numbered or in the face of an impossible foe that you fight. Thing is, my family is stronger in numbers. It's the reason why we're called 'the wolf clan', because we're a pack. It's hard for me to cope when I'm distanced from my pack, you know?"

It wasn't something Ciel could disagree with. He felt a similar separation with the distance from his Sebastian. In fact, he feared what the Sebastian they previously encountered was capable of, aside from trapping them in the wooded maze and waiting for their impending doom. The past (1888) and present (2002) butlers were of the same being, but accompanied by completely different masters. _Much has changed since my human years._ Ciel acknowledged.

The sound of soft steps approached them from the opposite end of the darkened tunnel.

When Olive felt fuzz rub against her bare leg, she looked up. "It's a cat." She mumbled.

"_Oh, really? I couldn't for the life of me tell."_ Ciel remarked, sarcastically.

Olive stroked the felines' fur, and it arched its back to her touch. Twigs and the like were entrapped in its fur. "It looks like a stray." She pointed-out, once again earning a snarky remark from the demon boy. It blinked its amber-colored eyes at her, and meowed, sweetly. "Aw, it's so cute!"

"_I hate cats."_ Ciel stated, sulkily.

The black cat scurried away. "Oh, look at what you did!" Olive complained, standing up. "Come back, Muffins! He didn't mean it." She felt for a wall in the dark, and upon finding one began walking in the direction the cat raced off to.

"_Muffins? Are you daft? Don't name it such an absurd thing!"_

"Um, what about Blackjack then?"

"_You know very well that is not what I meant!"_ Ciel growled. _"Now get back to your corner and continue your endless crying, human!"_

"No." And this just about made the previous Earl's head implode on itself. No one had ever said 'no' to him in his life. Was it even possible to? Well, apparently the wand-less witch just said it and she obviously didn't die upon impact.

"_Why you little…"_

"It's weird," Olive interrupted him as she scanned the walls. "For some reason I can see really well in this place. I've never been good at seeing in the dark."

Ciel had noticed this earlier as well. Perhaps his enhanced eyesight had an effect on her.

_Whack!_

Olive let out a cry as her leg collided with the wooden crate.

_Well, so much for that idea._ Ciel thought dismally.

"Shut up!" Olive snapped upon hearing his thoughts. "It appeared out of nowhere…" She lifted the lid to the crate. Her expression darkened upon identifying the numerous guns and ammunition inside. "What the…"

"_Ah, it seems we've stumbled upon my underground storage chamber."_ Ciel mused in a triumphant tone, while Olive simply, for lack of better words, 'sweat-dropped'. _"If we keep on, we shall reach the outside wall of my manor."_

"This isn't _your_ manor anymore… It's your past-self's manor." Olive corrected him, continuing her advances. The cat was seated on one of the crates. Olive picked him up into her arms. "But don't you think it's a little too coincidental that I fell through that trap door." She muttered. "I mean, that demon could be waiting for us at the other end. Or he could have a whole bunch of booby-traps set up through here." Her foot slightly pulled a string hidden under some soil, and a large boulder landed smack-dab in front of her face. "AAH!" She fell backwards onto her butt, and Blackjack scrambled out of her arms in the direction she came from.

"_I… Well, the human me, personally had the traps installed, but I am most positive Sebastian is already aware we are here. He probably presumes you, with your clumsy stupor, will make for an intriguing explosion - there are hidden explosives here, you see. One which I'm sure he's aware will provoke me. Err, the human me."_ Ciel replied darkly. The mention of Sebastian's tricks nonetheless irritated him.

"Does that mean I should turn around?" Olive wondered, already backing up.

_"The only way out is forward."_ Ciel replied. The witch took a deep breath.

"Then that's where I'm going."

* * *

Ciel could finally feel his eyelids drooping, tiredly. Tucked into his soft bed, with a hot cup of tea on his nightstand and the temperature of the room perfected for sleep, he was quite ready to fall into repose. However, he knew very well what awaited him in his unconscious state. There were very few times in his pre-teen years that Ciel was not bothered by nightmares. He consistently felt irreversibly tired, as he hadn't had a good nights' sleep in nearly three years. Perhaps tonight would be different.

His eyelids shut. Perhaps…

_KABOOM!_

* * *

Upon hearing the second explosion, that being Ciel's angry curses from upstairs, Sebastian chuckled, deciding the damage done to the estate was well-worth needling the young lord. However, he would have enjoyed examining the eccentric girl more. He smiled when he felt the vibrations of her soul again. "How curious, indeed." He mused, heading in the direction of her presence.

* * *

Ciel stared at the hole which was placed ever-so-presently in his bedroom floor. He shakily held his pistol in his hand, carefully stepping towards the hole and looking through it. The obvious culprit had stumbled inside. Short mousy-colored hairs stood astray on her head. Soot and dirt covered much of her strange, revealing outfit, and cuts and bruises covered her legs and arms. She wasn't at all pretty, at least in comparison with the women in Ciel's family. In fact, she was rather awkward looking and duck-like.

Analyzing the damage with a stupefied look on her face, she glanced up. Their eyes met: gray verses blue in a battle of two turmoil seas. Ciel's heart began rapidly beating as he gazed deeply into her. A noticeable blush spread across the girls' face.

_That girl is going to be... _"…A mantle above my fireplace!" Ciel growled, glaring at her. "How dare you bring destruction to my manor? I will personally skin you alive!"

She blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

Ciel aimed his pistol at her and shot. It came as a surprise to him when the bullet was intercepted by Sebastian's index finger and thumb. His tall body shielded the startled duck-girl behind him. The demon butler smiled. "Young Master, please cease your attempts at killing my daughter."

"What!" Both Ciel and the girl yelped.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Alright-y folks, today I recommend you read _That Butler: New Face_ by **weezerz2490**. This author keeps to the manga plot. I do enjoy the OC Chêne, but I want her to have her own "chappy" again (such as: That Butler: Chêne Goes to the Market, or something weird like that), so make sure to harass **weezerz2490 **for me… Heh…

As a shout-out to Chêne, I placed Olive's hometown in Louisiana. Although, I must clarify that, through the Door, Olive can claim a variety of places as her hometown. This shall be elaborated upon in later chapters, though. For now, she can be considered a southern belle.

I also wanted to step out of the norm of the character being a strong and dependable person, to being a weak and defenseless child, as Olive is. I mean, wouldn't you start crying if you were twelve years old and all alone in some foreign environment with some ass-hat nagging you in your head? Exactly. I mean, Ciel, aside from being an evil demon, is not a bad guy, but he's still retained a lot of his poor people skills from his time as a human. I mean, really. If he's out there devouring souls, he's not necessarily being a gentleman about it, right?

As there is going to be human-Ciel (also called "past-Ciel") and demon-Ciel coinciding within the chapters, I will explain how I will write this so it won't be as confusing. Demon-Ciel will have _Italicized_ phrases and sentences (which coincidentally makes sense, since only Olive can hear him). If anyone needs further clarification please PM me or leave a comment chewing me out for confusing you.

Moving on. Here's a review of today's chapter:

Olive has successfully infiltrated the Phantomhive manor with the only person who could help her: Ciel himself! Although, this Ciel is a demon, he's communicating to her through her thoughts, she's the only one who can hear him, and they're both somehow from the future or so they think.

(Now, real quick head's up: there are SO many stories about characters being thrown from the future into 1888, and I wanted to make mine a little different. I will explain more in later chapters, but just be aware that it is Olive and demon-Ciel's assumption that they traveled back in time. And, sometimes, characters are just plain wrong.)

So, what's up with Sebastian claiming to be Olive's father? Well, you'll just have to keep reading, now won't you?


	5. That Butler: Lies

**Chapter Five  
That Butler: Lies**

* * *

Olive sat, quietly, in the young Earl's study. Of course it wasn't a very comfortable arrangement. Her wrists and ankles were bound in stiff rope, and all of her belongings had been confiscated by the Earl: a shard of her wand, a quarter, and a plastic-wrapped mint from a Chinese restaurant. It wasn't much. She didn't necessarily have time to prepare for this unexpected vacation.

The Earl fiddled with the broken wand, moving it around between his index fingers. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, or at least contemplating the idea of returning to bed. Dark shadows occupied the area underneath his tired indigo-blue eye. If it weren't for the threatening scowl, he wouldn't be so intimidating. In fact, by his short stature and physique, Olive presumed he was at least a year or two younger than her.

Still, something about this boy frightened Olive, even more so than the demon in her head. Though they were the same person, she couldn't help but feel the one before her was more impulsive, more dangerous. His mercilessness protruded off him in what could be mistaken as aristocracy. But Olive knew this stench all too well. The Earl would cause her physical pain.

Therefore Olive didn't dare meet his gaze, which penetrated through her skull. Before her capture she managed a look at him, and she was, undeniably, a little mesmerized by his attractiveness. However, the powerful, binding contract in his right eye terrified her, and she hadn't looked at him since.

He stood from his chair and waltzed in her direction, causing her body to seize in panic. Thankfully, he passed her, and stood before the fireplace, engrossed in the flames. He tossed the shard of her wand into the pit, and it sizzled in pain. In spite of being broken, it was as much alive as Olive was, though the Earl was unaware of such a bond.

It seemed interrogation through silence was useless on such an individual, he realized. If he had met her on different circumstances – entirely different circumstances, considering she alone blew a chunk of his manor into smithereens and had his loyal butler claiming ownership to her – he might have regarded her with an air of ignorance, as he did all poorly dressed peasants.

"I grow weary of _your_ silence, Sebastian." Ciel emphasized, glaring at his butler. "Explain yourself or, regardless of your affiliation with this hellion, it shall indeed become an order to cast her into the fire."

Olive was fully aware of the heat on her neck. She was situated so close to the ravenous fire and the blood-cached fire pokers.

Every magically gifted person in the world – powerful or average – feared fire. Ever since the witch-hunts, Olive's race had been forced into seclusion or else face extinction. Soon, the ability to practice witchcraft had been regarded as something to hide. It was no longer a precious gift. Instead, it was considered a curse passed on through blood, and through this blood bond could every ounce of pain be repeated if Olive came too close to fire. She shuddered.

"She is my previous masters' daughter. Keeping her alive was his last request." Sebastian's clear, charismatic voice sliced through the quiet air. "If you were to kill her, I would have failed my final promise." He placed his hand against his chest, where his heart would be.

_If he actually had one…_ Olive thought bitterly.

"_I have a heart."_ El pointed out. _"Simply because it no longer beats, does not mean it isn't there, Olive. Do you prefer Olive or Olivia?"_

The witch felt warmth on her cheeks and a skip in her chest. "Um, Olive…" She whispered. It was the first time he had used her name, or asked how she felt.

"_W-What is the matter with you? It's suddenly really warm in here…"_ El complained.

"Your name is Olive?" Ciel wondered icily.

She met his chilly gaze, and bobbed her head, once.

Sebastian's chose this time to interrupt her, "Lord Peter of Oliveshire III was my master previous."

"He was a noble?" Ciel retorted, snorting.

"The House of Oliveshire, to be exact. He was king of Scotland for a brief period of time. That is, before our contract ended. Before you, bound in ropes being treated inhospitably is the Princess, Young Master." Sebastian lied so effortlessly.

Olive was a terrible liar, and, by the look on Ciel's face, she could plainly see he didn't believe a word of the lie. He returned to his chair.

"I suppose I have no other choice." He sighed, leaning fowards. "It would bring dishonor to the Phantomhive name to have a girl let alone a princess be cast out into this fearsome night. Why, I am quite stupefied you preceded this far in the countryside, what with the wolves. Though I doubt they'd hunt such a twig." He smirked.

"I can take care of myself! If you'd untie me, I would leave!" Olive declared, obnoxiously. She hated when others commented on her rail-thin physique, especially hypocritical ones who had the same problem! The white nightgown he wore clung to his pale, bony skin. To Olive he looked like a sad, anorexic ghost.

"Ah, an American," Ciel's grin broadened, and her eyes widened. She just eradicated the lie the butler so elaborately portrayed. "Quite odd for a Scottish princess, wouldn't you agree, Sebastian?"

The demon took this time to grimace. "Quite." Was his vague response.

"I suppose my curiosity has been peaked." Ciel mused. He tapped his fingers on his desk, briefly. "I shall divulge the truth from _you_ later." Ciel eyed Sebastian venomously. "However," He paused to pop the mint into his mouth. Olive could hear it bumping against his teeth as he sucked the flavor from it. "I'm sure our guest is tired. Show her to the stables."

"The stables?!" Olive squeaked. "W-With horses?"

"What else would be in stables?" Ciel sneered, scrunching up his fine-bridged nose in sadistic amusement.

"That's not it… Why can't I stay in the house?" She mumbled, feebly.

Sebastian waltzed towards her, and began slicing away at the ropes with a small knife. His breath was close to her ear as he spoke. "If a young lady of the approximate age to my Young Master were to stay the night in his manor, some might presume that he was being intimate with you." Sebastian replied, smiling.

Ciel's face turned bright red. "That is not what I meant!" He growled. He nearly choked on the mint as it suddenly traveled down his throat.

"_What a brat I was…" _El muttered.

_Was?_ Olive taunted, earning a huff from the young demon.

"However," The butler continued. "It will reflect well on the Phantomhive name if the Earl were to show generosity towards a poor urchin by allowing her shelter in his stables." He took her hand softly in his gloved one, and brought her to her feet. "Young Master, I shall return with tea shortly." He said, and Ciel simply grunted.

* * *

They had exited a large mahogany door to the hallway. It had been a few minutes since their departure, and all was quiet, except with the creaks of the floorboards under their feet.

Sebastian had placed her hand in the crook of his arm. "Mey-Rin is one of the Phantomhive's female servants." He suddenly said. "Tomorrow, I will introduce you. Might I ask whether you prefer Olivia or Olive?"

Olive blinked. "Um, Olive, if you don't mind…" She replied. "Are you at all related to your young master?"

Sebastian's words caught in his throat. "What a formidable jest!" He ran his hand over his face. "Delightedly, I am not."

"Why'd you lie for me then? Doesn't that go against your contract?" Olive asked. The questions in her head were endless.

His eyes glowed red. "Many reasons. First of all, you are a rather fascinating specimen. I have not seen a witch in nearly three hundred years, you see." He admitted, causing her eyes to widen. "Yet, the place you choose to intrude upon is that of the Phantomhive residence. The men in this family have burned witches for generations, Miss Olive. This action makes you innocent or daring, either of which I am quite enchanted by."

El remained quiet in her thoughts, providing her with that single truth. His family was made up of nothing more than cold-blooded murderers. She was too tired to be angry at El or suspicious of Sebastian's plans. Even a pile of hay was a welcoming compromise by this point.

"If you are fearful of the night, you are welcomed to accompany me to my courters." Sebastian suggested, provocatively. Olive's skin broke out in goose bumps, and he lowered his lips to her ear, "Witches' are lascivious companions for the night."

She scurried away from him, her chest heaving up and down. "Um, n-no thank you…"

Sebastian cornered her against the wall, staring her up and down. She became blatantly aware who Ciel was referring to as the wolf. He was absolutely enormous, compared to Olive who was nothing more than a mouse in contrast!

"Miss Olive, as a half-blood you would snap like a twig if I were to have my way with you now. Currently, I am your protection from the Young Master. At some point, I will reap my payment, but for now think of me as your… knight in shining armor, if you will." He lifted a piece of her short hair towards his lips. A displeased expression appeared on his face. "A bath is in order."

* * *

"I-I-I-I can do this by myself, you know!" Olive cried. Sebastian had already ripped away her T-shirt and cargo shorts, which lay in a filthy pile next to the tub. She hopelessly tried to cover up her nudity, but he seemed oddly unaffected by it. A bored expression claimed his angled face.

Sebastian rolled up his sleeves. "You might as well grow accustomed to this." He lifted her up into his arms. "I do not intend on having my _offspring_ appear _scruffy_." He casually tossed her into the chilled bath water. It along with the many perfumed bubbles splashed onto the titles, and she let out a shocked scream.

"It's too cold!"

"You should have entered when it was warm instead of arguing with me. Now, be still or else I will have to restrain you…"

…

"Hey, don't touch me there!"

"Are you ticklish, Miss Olive?"

"!"

* * *

Ciel shuddered when he heard the sounds erupting from the bathroom. Of all the places Sebastian chose to bathe that filthy girl… it had to be in the room with the paper-thin walls. "Damn it all…" He grumbled, slamming his pillow over his head.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the late update. Alright, time to clarify some things:

Olive nicknamed the demon-Ciel inside her thoughts 'El.' I'm pretty sure you guys already figured that out, though, 'cause you're geniuses.

Secondly, I had written a beautiful draft of this chapter – it was absolutely perfect (in my opinion, anyway). And then the _motherfucking_ power went out, and I lost ALL of it. I was so freaking pissed. But, anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this less than adequate chapter (even though I don't). I'll put more effort into Chapter 6, I promise… Right now, though, I'm mentally drained and physically exhausted. So, read, review, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I also recommend you read **Sedentary Wordsmith**'s _Kidnapping 101_. That is, if you like Ouran High School Host Club. Have a splendid holiday!


	6. Clove

**Chapter Six**

**Clove**

* * *

"Olivia,"

…Mom…

"Olive, it's time to wake up, sweetie."

"I had a terrible nightmare, Mom…"

Cressida restrained herself from wrapping her arms around her daughter, and, rather, ran her hand through her wavy black hair, her dark black eyes sad. "It wasn't a dream, dear."

"What do you mean?" Olive cried, reaching for her mothers' slim hands. She fell through her opaque bodice, and she wavered like a white sheet on a clothesline. "Y-Y-You… What happened?"

Cressida knelt down. Her black robe sunk to the ground with her. Towards the end of the garment was a faint blue light, with a reel of white spinning past it. Olive noticed the coolness of the air, and the sharp breeze burning her puffy (from crying) eyes and cheeks.

"This is a cinematic record." She realized, glancing down at the memories soaring past her. There were images of the young Earl; many, many pictures of him which went by far too fast for Olive to actually see them. The enormous burning house caught her eye as it slipped by. "Mom, what are we doing here?"

Cressida's lips formed a thin frown, and her thick eyebrows knitted. "I cannot say for sure." She replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "You fell through The Door, or so say the English demon I found poised every so eloquently in our burned to a crisp kitchen when I returned home. Why, the creature even made _tea_, not that it covered his foul stench." She added irritably. Her eyes narrowed on her daughter, steely and hard and unyielding; the _true_ eyes of a Randolph. "What did I say about leaving the house without me, Olivia? Demons crave you, just as they did your father! Do you want to die?" She roared.

Olive flinched at the animalistic tone her mother had. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm sorry…" She sniveled pitifully. She lowered her eyes to the ground.

Underneath her, in a square box, appearing like a plastic container, she saw El cowering in a corner, holding his head in his hands. "El…" She whispered.

Black liquid encompassed the area around him in a giant pool. He was gnawing on something, but threw it aside in frustration. It was his arm. El threw his bright pink eyes up at Olive. Regardless of the blood dripping from his cached lips down his chin, she still found him attractive. His black pupils slit.

Cressida glared down at the little demon, as he threw himself against the walls, bared his sharp fangs, extended his claws and let out horrific screams. "The little monster is hungry." She noticed. "Don't look at him, Olivia!" Her mother ordered, grasping her daughters' chin.

Olive quickly brought her burning eyes away.

Her eyesight returned briefly. "I don't understand… Did I do that to him?" Olive asked, glancing up to where her mother had been standing. She was no longer there. "Mom? Mom!" The poor girl stood up, frantically searching the area around her. The reel had stopped moving, and darkness began to draw in closer.

El took to banging his dismembered arm against the solid glass. _Thud, thud, thud_. Olive placed her hands over her ears. _Thud, thud, thud._ The dark enclosed upon her. _Thud._ She let out a scream, "Stop it!"

* * *

_Why go through all that trouble?_ Olive wondered as she wandered around the empty, unoccupied stables. She had never been scrubbed bare by some demon-man, and, in the end, was thrown into some falling-apart, dung-smelling shanty.

She had woken up scared, and now wandered the barn scared. The dream left a dull terror in her. What exactly had her mother been trying to tell her? Earlier, the dream began to blur away in her memory. No matter how hard she tried to remember it now, she came to the realization she'd forgotten everything but the fact she'd had the dream.

An entirely black horse with dark brown eyes neighed, startling the young girl into awareness.

"_Ah, Clove."_ El murmured, a little groggily. He raised Olive's hand to stroke the horses' muzzle. _"Here boy."_ It backed away into its stall, snorting. _"Evil creature still hates me…"_

"Please don't control my body parts…" She hesitated when she felt the sadness ruminating inside her. It was masked sorrow. "Was this your horse, El?" Olive asked, softly.

The turmoil retracted, and El's indifference returned. _"My fathers' horse."_ He corrected stoutly. _"He is irreversibly stubborn, and was only obliging to my father."_

"That's weird…" Olive commented, looking straight into the creatures' blurry eyes. "You think that maybe animals can hear you?"

"_No. Why?"_

"I was told that members of my family were once able to talk to wolves. If you created a close bond with one, you could have a wolf as your companion." She explained. "Clove is blind, but he backed away as though he heard your voice."

"_Daft thinking; the creature probably caught whiff of your morning breath."_

Olive rolled her eyes. She opened the stall door. _I'll show you._ She thought, determinedly.

"_Olive! Don't!"_

It was too late. The horse stood in the air, its hooves extended.

* * *

Ciel woke up with a start. He found himself tumbled from bed and onto the floor, due to that piercing scream. Such a sound ought never to be allowed in the early hours of the morning. His bloodshot eyes flicked to the hanging clock above his vanity.

"For the love of all that is… The sun is still rising in the sky!" He snarled. He stood up and rubbed his sore backside.

It was then that the laughter started.

Female laughter, sweet and innocent with the occasional hiccup, made Ciel nothing short of surly. "…Not Elizabeth. Please, anything but that." He muttered, wistfully.

"Be careful what you wish for, Young Master."

His nightgown-clad body seized in panic when he heard his butlers' velvety voice caress his ears. Sebastian's voice mimicked a feather running along a persons' neck. The young Earl shivered, not only from the thought but from the cold draft which had come through his window. "Do not do that." Ciel ordered, bolting towards his window to slam it shut.

Sebastian raised his eyebrow in suspicion, before a knowing smirk caught his lips. "I thought you should know that Olivia has adjusted quite nicely." He noted, ignoring his masters' wide, rounded eyes.

"What horse is she riding?" Ciel inquired.

"The twelve year old stallion."

He clenched his teeth. "How dare that little brute ride my fathers' horse…!" He hissed, though envy still clung to his tone. Every single time he even attempted to ride the damned creature, it would throw him off.

"There seems to be a new life in the old beast." Sebastian mused, his eyes glowing with what seemed to be fatherly pride and… hunger? "Like magic."

Ciel huffed as he roughly slammed the window shut. "Arrange for Clove to be sent off to The Glue Factory. I won't have some common whore ride my fathers' horse."

Sebastian smiled as he poured the richly colored tea into a cup. "You would break the toy so as to keep another from playing with it. What a child you are, Milord."

"Look at the way she rides it!" Ciel's voice raised an octave. "In her time away from you, did she live in a brothel?"

"Olivia is unacquainted with polite society, Milord." He paused, for a moment. "She has offered to give you horse riding lessons."

"I know how to ride a bloody horse!" Ciel snapped, snatching the tea away. It scorched his tongue when he went to drink it. "…I _am_ a gentleman!" He added, his eyes watering.

Sebastian placed the silver tray against his chest. "Olivia was, somehow, well aware you would react this way. She brightly suggested that pacifying Clove would affirm your place as head of the Phantomhive family."

_That little wench,_ thought the boy. "Where does she get off telling me what to do?"

"She _is_ American, Milord. But I must point out that I observed her sleep in the night,"

Ciel slammed his hands over his ears. "I do not want to hear of your personal affairs with that girl…!"

"You may find a, what's the phrase, common ground in the fact you both have night terrors." Sebastian concluded, opening the bathroom door. "I shall begin your bath, Milord." He said slyly.

"Don't bother." Ciel growled. "I shall play this game the tramp has in mind."

* * *

Ciel was catapulted to the ground. He was _lucky_ enough to land in the muddiest area among the green grass. Clove breathed out angrily from his nostrils, but seemed to cheer up as Olive came jogging towards them, in her skimpy clothes. He trotted _merrily_ towards her, and she fed him a carrot.

"Don't treat the bastard for bad behavior!" Ciel shouted, furiously.

"It's not his fault! You need to be gentler with him!" Olive responded, stroking the beasts' muscular neck. The old horse was absolutely enamored with the girl.

"What exactly did you put in those bloody carrots?" Ciel spat as Sebastian helped him up from the ground.

"I mixed in a little bit of love." The American responded sarcastically. "No, I plucked them from that garden over there…" She didn't add that she might have enhanced them. They weren't exactly appetizing. Clove nuzzled Olive's bobbed brown hair, and she giggled.

Ciel glared at the girl. "I should have your tongue for lying! You have no idea how to teach me to ride this evil creature!"

An annoyed sigh escaped Olive's lips. She walked up to Ciel, and grasped his hands in her own. "This is kindness." She instructed, ignoring his enraged expression. "A… little birdie…tells me that you're not the type to like being touched." She paused. "Clove's the same way. Treat him the way you want to be treated, and you'll be able to ride him."

"Don't tell me you don't like to be touched either." Ciel grumbled starkly. The girl had a strong grip, and refused to let go. He was _this_ close to ordering Sebastian to snap her wrists. Indeed, _that_ close.

"After last night with your butler, I'm pretty sure that I'll be an old cat lady _forever_. It's really too sad that you British folk don't have a Chris Hansen in this century, you know. Well, I suppose you wouldn't." She replied icily, though a wide grin remained on her face. She squeezed his hands, that fake-smile still plastered on her pretty little face. She wasn't that terrible looking… Ciel shook his head. What _was_ he thinking?

"Well, now that I'm done here, I really should be going. I'm glad I was able to help. Thank you for offering me a place to sleep, and letting me ride your horse. You're a good guy, a real good guy." She shook his hand up and down. "I really hope our paths won't cross again in the future, though." She turned to walk away.

Olive collided into Sebastian's chest, and fell back on her butt. "Beauty, do you believe that, by using magic to soothe the Beast, you've earned the right to leave?" He mused, towering over her like a giant. Beads of sweat formed on her body.

Ciel appeared. "The repairs to my manor were not free, you realize. You are in debt to me, possibly forever. Welcome to employment, scullery maid." He smiled, a little too evilly.

Olive swallowed the dry lump in her throat. "Eheh..."

_"Idiot."_ El added dryly.

_It was better than the hold yourself hostage plan! That makes no sense at all!_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I am so sorry for putting off updating! I know this will sound unforgivable, but I was SO extremely busy over Christmas Break. Today, I promised my parents I'd do some spring cleaning... I mean, I'd rather cut off my arm and shove it up my ass than have to wash more plate covered in Christmas turkey, but okay. Done, done, comprende? So, I quickly wrote up this chapter, and I hope you guys are happy... Well, it isn't even a chapter. It's a filler. It's a terrible and horrible filler because I'm a terribly horrible Fanfiction writer who is extremely lazy and likes to eat apple turnovers while watching the Dark Knight. Forgive me, readers. I hope you enjoy this chappy...err filler...though.


	7. Professor Hughes Comes for a Visit

**Chapter Seven**

**Professor Hughes Comes for a Visit**

* * *

**Summer 2002**

Cressida stepped back from the boy demons' seemingly lifeless body, and collapsed into an armchair, her skin pasty white and her thick black hair tousled.

Sebastian simply watched as tears rolled from her eyes over her fair skin. Bored as he was, he held out his handkerchief.

"A gentlemanly demon," She snorted, eyeing him. She snatched the cloth from his hand, and dabbed at her eyes.

Sebastian's eyes swiveled to where his young master lay on the couch. His breathing hitched in his throat every so often, and his skin dripped with sweat.

"Olive is trapped in your friends' memories." Cressida said, pulling out a cigarette from a carton.

She fumbled with lighting her fingers, before ultimately throwing the unlit cigarette onto the linoleum floor.

"The Door repelled her, because he was holding onto her. She was cast into his cinematic record. Messing with memories is dangerous for both of them. Olive is trapped in a state of reality and unreality. What she experiences is not real, yet real. The history which this demon-child knows is being rewritten; he is struggling to understand it all… They'll both be driven to insanity if they aren't careful."

Sebastian's face hardened. "My Young Master has always been too eager a hunter." He replied, placing the back of his bare hand against the boys' right eye. The contract glowed slightly against his oily skin.

Cressida pressed a sharp object against the back of his head.

She dug the tip of her wand into his skin. "What do you think you're doing?" She growled, her eyes narrowing.

Sebastian smirked, and pulled back. Cressida kept the wand pointed between his eyes. For a woman she was rather tall and _masculine_-looking, though the shape of her waist and bosom revealed her gender.

"My master is incapacitated, which subsequently defers our contract. Until he awakens, I shall enjoy my freedom." He explained, that pleasant smile ever-so-present on his angled face.

He knew well the boys' demon soul would overpower the girls' – no matter if she were a witch, she would die. He would have to enjoy himself as much as he could until then.

"Do I look like a babysitter to you?" Cressida snarled. The fireplace next to them growled with her, and probed for Sebastian, devouring his suit as a result. His eyebrow ticked. It was his favorite suit: an expensive, _irreplaceable_ Armani.

"You look like a mother." Sebastian replied calmly. He wiped away the fiery flicks with his hand like they were nothing more than specks of dust. "It is what makes you weak. Affection is a weakness, which I gladly deny myself. I have suffered 114 years with this _brat_. The hour is takes to overwhelm your offspring's soul is time I've been neglected." He explained casually.

Cressida bit down hard, grinding her teeth. She wanted to hit the man. In fact, she very well wanted to kill him right then, but she was outmatched. It would take at least three powerful magic-doers to kill such an old demon.

"Surely there must be something even you could love. You_ did_ go through all the trouble to turn this child, regardless of the fact child demons are like child vampires. Their hunger is never satisfied, and they put everyone around them at risk because of their lack of self-control! The Council would have your head if such a thing were to occur under your jurisdiction. In fact, I wouldn't mind having your head as a mantelpiece above my fireplace." She spat.

Sebastian's mouth formed a thin line. "You are unacquainted with my master, Mrs. Carlisle, as I am unacquainted with this magical group therapy committee you speak of. Alas, my young master is rather disciplined." He hesitated a moment. "Though I must acknowledge I did not turn him, as I am far more humane than he. I have not harmed a single hair on your head, or your daughters', which proves how agreeable a monster I am." He closed his eyes and smiled, grimly.

"I wouldn't give you that much credit." Cressida stated, though she clearly remembered the creature which Olive had been so mesmerized by. It was so evil that Olive's eyes had begun to turn red and shrivel. Cressida had tried to embrace her daughter, but the moment she lost control of her spell… Perhaps she was weak, as the demon said. "I… cannot do this without you." She admitted through clenched teeth.

Sebastian lifted her chin to meet his gaze, smiling wickedly. "My services are not free, you realize." He said silkily, moving his hand to her cheek. Her soft skin burned against his, which was to be expected. The Randolph's were known for their elevated body heat.

Cressida slapped his hand away. "I will not give you my soul." She responded, earning her an annoyed stare.

"I can feel young demons approaching. They are plotting, and intend on overwhelming you. We have very little time, Mrs. Carlisle." Glass shattered. "You should make your decision quickly."

"They can overwhelm you, too!" She cried, zapping the hungry creature which came on all fours toward Ciel. It fell to the ground, dead. The expression on its face was so horrific, Cressida felt a wave of nausea pass through her.

She heard more of them tumbling upstairs, causing her eyes to widen in fear.

"It is highly unlikely." Sebastian replied, watching her expression change from confidence to horror in a matter of seconds. It amused him how quickly and suddenly a human could fall, especially a **Gifted** one. They were raised believing they never could fail, and when the time came when success was impossible, there disappointment was delectable.

A demon lunged towards her, knocking her to the ground and sending her wand across the room.

Sebastian picked up the ravenous monster by the nape of its neck, and snapped its back like it was nothing more than a twig.

"My master has made _many_ enemies over the years." He sighed, tossing the limp carcass to the hardwood floor. The spell on the house was starting to flicker out again, turning it back to the fire-burnt home it once was.

Cressida forced herself off the ground, and snatched up her wand, wincing at the pain the action caused her. "W-We shall discuss business later!" She declared, stumbling to his side. "Agreed?" She breathed, when he didn't answer. She no longer seemed afraid; that displaced confidence had returned.

Sebastian took notice of her sprained wrist. _She is useless. Alas, I suppose the Young Master would be rather upset if he lost limbs, though perhaps it would add character._

His eyes shone a bright, vibrant crimson, and his teeth and claws sharpened as he prepared for a kill. "For now I shall agree to these terms, Mrs. Carlisle."

"It's Ms. C-"

He didn't allow her to finish.

His fist collided with her head, and to the ground she went, into unconsciousness.

The hoard of bright red and yellow eyes hovered around the room, blotting out all light, with the exception of the dying, flickering fire.

Sebastian's eyebrow rose. "And here I thought you learnt your lesson from our last encounter. I suppose a price has been put on our heads yet again. To think the Demon Mafia would go to such great lengths to eliminate a child."

"Kill the boy!" One of the demons snarled.

The fire dimmed until the room was shrouded in complete and total darkness.

It was then that the screams started.

* * *

**Summer 1888**

"Professor Hughes," Sebastian acknowledged as the said man exited his carriage. He was short and fat with a pink complexion; in other words, he resembled a pig. In front of the 'vehicle' was a group of six horses. It seemed to need that many to pull this pudgy bastard around. "I do hope the journey from London through the country was enjoyable."

"It was dreadful. I must digress, however, that the weather in the country has cooled down far more than London. There are simply far too many people producing far too many obnoxious gasses. Surely the Earl would agree with me." The Professor replied, dabbing his oily skin with a handkerchief.

"Indeed, Sir." Sebastian responded, smirking a little. "The Master is outside at the moment, awaiting your arrival."

"In this heat?" Hughes guffawed, his turkey neck wiggling. "Only a child could conquer the battle between the suns' rays."

_This man is simply full of…riddles._ He thought, drearily. _Perhaps if you resisted Turkish delight, you pig of a man, you would find the weather more tolerable._

"Indeed…" Sebastian finally responded.

"I dare say this place is quite dirty. Her Grace, Lady Margaret de Berg, resides a relatable distance from here, as I am sure anyone of polite society is aware. _Her_ servants maintain the mansion to a pristine condition, not a thing out of place. Perhaps they could relay advice to those here." Hughes rambled, muttering the last part into his handkerchief.

Sebastian's eyebrow ticked. "Follow me this way, Sir." He instructed.

* * *

Ciel enjoyed the view from the patio. It was peaceful, and, with the light breeze and shade provided by the manor, simply perfect. He slouched in the chair (his body still ached from being thrown from that beast earlier in the morning).

Clove had been _miraculously_ healed of his blindness, and Ciel was able to pet him (something he couldn't do before, since the vicious beast would try to bite at his fingers every time he tried).

"Is that girl some sort of healer or horse psychiatrist?" He wondered to himself, placing his chin against the palm of his hand. She was a mystery, that one.

Olive had been right about one thing: if Ciel learned to ride Clove, he would most definitely be viewed as a true Phantomhive (considering that Clove's grandfather had been Ciel's great-grandfathers' horse).

But saying so was completely out of _her_ place. Besides, even if the damned creature rejected him, Ciel _was_ a Phantomhive. Inside, though, he desperately wanted to be able to ride Clove. This irritated him nonetheless, since Olive essentially knew something personal about him. No one _knew_ Ciel Phantomhive. He was a ghost. A figure as opaque as a perfect window. But he was still human.

Around the young earl were trees, lush green grass, and a pond with water lilies far in the distance. If he remained quiet, he could distantly here ducks and their ducklings playing amongst the water. Hunting season was upon this family, unbeknownst to them.

From his cruel dose of life, he appreciated the ignorance of such animals.

At times, he wondered if it were possible to turn a blind eye to his revenge as simple as a duck could with a hunter.

He knew well he couldn't. With or without the contract condemning him to death, he would search out those to justify his hatred and bitterness. He would provide the same cruel treatment to those who killed his parents, and he would not give up until they suffered just as he had.

No matter how Ciel worded it, he was not heroic or justified. Only his future self, the one in our dear Olive's head, realized this, though.

Clove neighed, signaling the approach of the butler, and Ciel's posture automatically straightened.

"Professor Hughes, Milord." Sebastian approached the patio. Lumbering behind him was the fat Professor.

"Hello Milord…" The fat-man heaved, causing Ciel to smirk.

"You are late, Professor." He greeted, holding back his laughter at the sight of the red-faced porker. The man went to reply, but Ciel defused him, "How is the Lord Falmouth?"

"Q-Quite well… He passes his sincerest apologies that he could not be here for this meeting regarding the sire." Hughes rambled, collapsing in a chair next to Ciel.

It screeched in agony at the atrocious weight of the man. He dabbed at his balding head with a handkerchief.

"Her Grace, Lady Margaret de Berg, has written you, I hope?" He inquired.

"Yes, a number of times." Ciel responded as he repeatedly twisted his ring around his pinky finger. _Might as well get this over with._ "I was preoccupied with the summer festivities. You _will_ pass my answer on to her."

"I will indeed, Milord." Hughes consented. _How dare the little brat tell me what to do,_ he thought, eyeing Clove as he trotted through the high grass. "He is a fine horse, but I was under the impression he was blind. Her Grace, Lady Margaret de Berg, was the only potential buyer for that very reason."

"He was. Blind, that is." Ciel replied, smartly. He smirked at Hughes' baffled expression. "His eyesight has improved exponentially. That being the case, I will no longer be in need of your or Lady Margaret's services."

"You aren't going to sell him?" The professors' face fell.

"Actually, I have grown rather fond of the beast." Ciel lied. He hated the creature, but... that filthy girl seemed to like the filthy horse. He might as well keep it around, so she wouldn't blow up another part of his manor. She seemed like one of those types: the kind who got themselves into trouble.

Hughes narrowed his eyes. "We had an agreement." He snarled, standing up. The chair, which had been stuck around his hips, fell to the ground with a loud thud. "I sell the bloody horse for you and you bloody well pay me for a job well done!" His Yorkshire accent was heavy in his heightened tone.

"A job well done?" Ciel snorted, standing. "It took you an entire year to find Lady Margaret as a buyer, and you expect me to believe your job was well done? Do you take me for an idiot?" He glared down the man.

"We had a deal!" Hughes shouted, and Ciel smiled one of those rare, arrogant smiles.

"You and Lady Margaret had a deal. Do give the gambling bat my most sincere of regrets."

"Why you little…!"

"Sebastian, show the morbidly obese Professor Hughes to his carriage, and spare carrots to the steeds. I imagine they don't eat much if anything at all."

"Yes, Milord." Sebastian replied, dutifully. He latched onto the professors' arm, and practically dragged him off the balcony.

"Her Grace will not be happy about this, you little bastard!" Hughes yelled. "She will have your little prick on a platter!"

Ciel's face scrunched up, indignantly. "Sebastian."

CRACK!

Hughes let out a pained scream.

* * *

"Was that a pig? Screaming just now?" Bard wondered, throwing his cigarette butt to the ground.

Finni shrugged in response.

* * *

**MEANWHILE...**

"_Why go through all that trouble?"_ El wondered, irritably.

"What trouble?" Olive asked as she used a scrub-brush on the dirt-coated steps. Her hands and back ached at the thought of having to scrub the floors of the entire entrance hall. This 'scullery maid' shtick wasn't working out, so, in her presumptuous mind, she was already putting into the works her 'escape plan.' Not that Ciel _necessarily_ agreed.

"_None of your concern. You don't listen to me anyway," _Responded the demon in that cool-headed voice of his.

Olive huffed, indignantly. Why was he suddenly being so surly towards her? Was it her plan? No, it couldn't be her plan. That was the least of their problems.

Her back brushed against the wall, until her entire body rested on it. "I'm so tired…" She groaned, closing her eyes and wiping at the sweat on her brow.

"_It's only been twenty minutes!"_ El sneered.

"Urg… If I had my wand, I could…"

"_Don't even think about it! The last time you tried to use it, you blew up half of my manor!"_

"Well, someone had to remove that boulder! Oh, and, by the way, this isn't your manor anymore!" She snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "It'd be a whole lot easier if I could wear _my_ clothes…"

"_Those clothes were disgusting, and stop whining."_

"Oh, just shut up." She stared at the sunlight through the window, dreamily. "What exactly did you do to Clove?"

"_I sold him."_ Ciel replied hastily. _"To a wealthy noble, whose name, I can't for the life of me, remember. He reproduced some of the finest."_

"Why?" Olive demanded. "He's a good horse!"

"_A useless horse who rejects his master is not a respectable horse. If I kept the creature, I would be viewed as soft. And what if I had been thrown off during a hunt? I'd be the laughingstock of London!"_ He cried, shivering at the thought.

"Back to work, Miss Olivia." Mey-Rin instructed, nudging the girl with the tip of her boot. The bespectacled head-maid smiled, kindly. "M' sorry you 'ave to do this all by yourself, but Mister Sebastian insisted."

"That's okay, and you can just call me Olive." Olive consented, forcing herself to smile, though it hurt to do so. Mey-Rin had been tugging on her cheeks since they met, because she apparently found her 'so cute'.

"I really can see the resemblance between you and Mister Sebastian!" Mey-Rin exclaimed, blushing. She grasped Olive's soapy hands. "If you ever need anyone to talk to, please don't hesitate to come to me! I know it must be hard to have lost your mother at such a young age!"

Olive's eye twitched. How much of a backstory did that creepy guy come up with? Bard called for red-haired maid, and she gave an affirming nod to the young witch, before departing towards the kitchen.

"…**I am your protection from the Young Master. At some point, I will reap my payment, but for now think of me as your… knight in shining armor, if you will."**

Olive shivered as that memory returned to her. What sort of payment did he have in mind? She decided not to think on it too much. Her protection was the fact she was only a half-blood.

"_What exactly is a half-blood?"_ El wondered, curiously.

Olive grabbed the scrub brush from the bucket, and began scrubbing the steps again. "It's when a witch or wizard reproduces with a human. Their child is known as a half-blood, because human blood is more potent than witch or wizard blood. One writer referred to it as being a 'mud-blood,' which is a common term in Europe. It's uncommon for things like that to happen, though." She explained quietly.

"_It all comes down to blood, does it?"_

"It's more than that. Blood defines us. From the stories, the Families began trusting each other after many centuries passed, and the younger generation began spawning the next generation of witches and wizards. Sebastian wasn't far off when he said he hasn't seen a witch or wizard in over three hundred years. They all went into hiding around the time of the burnings."

"You know quite a bit of history for a little girl." Sebastian mused, breathing seductively into her ear.

Olive knocked over the bucket in her fright, causing him to chuckle. "…My grandparents told me stories." She spluttered, using her apron to dab at the water. It seeped into a loose board (the wine cellar, she presumed), causing her to sigh, angrily. "Don't sneak up on me anymore please."

Sebastian gleamed. "Even when tempered, you remain such a polite little mouse." He stroked her short brown hair, causing her to stiffen. "You _will_ have to trust me one day, if we are to be a family."

"Families don't enslave each other… They tell stories about our distant relatives. It's what we…" Her eyes widened. "My relatives…?"

"I see. Well, I shall read you a story before bed tonight." He decided, ignoring the girls' plotting expression.

He prepared to walk away, but paused in the doorway.

"The Young Master has considered making a trip to London tomorrow. Perhaps you might wish to accompany us." Sebastian suggested. "You are in desperate need of a uniform that actually fits. You will have to reimburse Mey-Rin for ruining hers." He added, condescendingly.

"_Please tell me you are not going to try to find those relatives of yours…"_ El imposed in Olive's active, racing thoughts.

He hated where all this was heading towards. He was still the kind of person that waited for people to approach him. Let the mouse fall into the trap, so to speak.

She smiled, ignoring her associate. "I'd love to join you guys!"

Sebastian jerked his head once, before leaving the room. "Tanaka," He signaled to the old man, who was presumably behind the wall. Olive flinched. She hadn't even seen him! Had he been there that whole time? "Prepare lemonade. The Young Master has company in the afternoon."

"Ho ho ho…" replied the old butler. Once Sebastian left, Tanaka's sparkling eyes wandered over to Olive. "Are you to visit these _relatives_ in London, child?" He asked, causing Olive to bristle. "I will not breathe a word to the Young Master, if that is what worries you."

She frowned. "Not exactly him."

"Sebastian is fond of you. He does not seem the type to explore attachments easily, if at all. He is an odd fellow." Tanaka explained, setting his green cup down on the ground. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "It would make him very sad if you went to live with another family."

"I don't think I could if I tried..." Olive admitted, inching away from the man. His breath reeked of green tea! "My uncle wouldn't know who I am… We've actually never met." _And I don't think Sebastian would ever let me leave._ She thought bitterly.

Tanaka's eyebrows knitted together. "Blood does indeed define who we are. It defines the Young Master, who lost his parents at a very young age, and it defines you, whoever you are. However, we should fight against this definition, this identity, for the sake of spontaneity and excitement." He smiled wisely. He suddenly collapsed to the ground. "Ho ho ho."

_Is he alright?_ Olive wondered, blinking.

"_He is out of energy."_ El responded dryly.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:**

Margaret smiled at Professor Hughes. It was too sweet of a smile. Behind it, he knew, it was filled with fierce rage. She was not angry about the horse. No, rather, she was angry with him.

"Your incompetence astounds me, Professor." She said softly. She stroked Kiano's white fur, and the lions' purrs echoed through the room. "I did not wish to mate my mare with just any sire. The Phantomhive's won the past Queens' affections due to their equestrian skills. You realize that such a match would have been to your benefit as well."

"Yes, Your Grace…" Hughes muttered. Dirty tears were strewn over his face. "If you give me another chance, I can get the horse…"

Margaret snapped her fingers, and Kiano stood up on all fours. He stalked towards Hughes, and the fat man shivered. The creature breathed onto his face. "I am feeling merciful today. See that you do, Mr. Hughes. I care little for the horse, so once you have it in your possession send it to the factory. Rather, think this a test of your abilities. If you fail, I will have to punish you."

Hughes took a deep, nervous breath. "W-What will you do, Milady?" He said in a voice as low as a whisper.

"Are you suggesting I ponder on it? I have full faith in your…less than agreeable abilities, Mr. Hughes." Margaret mused.

"B-B-But, Milady… the butler there… he's not _human_… I don't know if… I mean, blimey, look at what he did to my arm!" Hughes held up the bandaged limb.

Margaret suddenly appeared in front of him, and pressed her hands to his arm. His eyes widened in horror as it disappeared, leaving only his elbow. He let out a cry.

Her seething amber eyes glared down at him. "I can do much worse to you, if you fail, Mr. Hughes." She hissed, holding up his severed limb. She tossed it over to Kiano, who swallowed it whole.

"No!" Hughes wept, reaching out for the limb.

Margaret stepped on his outstretched hand.

"Unless you want to lose your other arm, I suggest you leave." Margaret sighed, sadly. She knelt down to the grubby professor. "I am a compassionate woman, Mr. Hughes. Once you complete your task, I shall return your arm to you, and make you richer than the Queen. Haven't you ever heard that a happy witch is a good witch?" She smiled, revealing her perfectly white teeth.

Hughes nodded, silently. "Yes, Milady… I shall do what you ask…"

"What I require, Mr. Hughes." Margaret corrected, returning to her couch. "Noah, show Mr. Hughes to the exit. He is quite ready to leave."

Red eyes appeared from the dark corner of the room. A teenage boy in a white butlers' uniform appeared. "This way, Mr. Hughes." He said in a steady, venomous tone, ignoring the vicious growl erupting from Kiano's throat.

Hughes scrambled up, and rushed towards the parlor door. He bowed his head once in the direction of Margaret, who responded with a glare.

"Oh, and Noah," Margaret called in a sing-song voice. "Kiano is famished. Bring one of Mr. Hughes horses. Alive."

"Yes, Milady." Replied the boy, his red eyes glowing in the dark crevice of the hallway.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

So, I know I added two OC's, but let me defend myself! Professor Hughes _**is** _a character in the manga, but (as far as I know) never elaborated on further. He is an authority in Knightcraft. So, I figured ("what the heck?!"), and made him the secret informant of the mysterious, avid horse-racing fan and gambler: Duchess Margaret de Berg. She will play a VERY relevant role in the story, so I hope you guys like her/hate her whatever.

As mentioned by 'El', he actually sold the horse to Margaret (this was in his "Original Memories", which are now being rewritten as Cressida so eloquently put it). However, in this multiverse, Ciel does not sell the horse and earns himself, and later Olive, a new enemy: Margaret, another witch, and her white-clad butler, Noah.

And, yes. Yes I did make a reference to J.K. Rowling. There. Take that.

I really tried to make this chapter as vivid and 'gory' as possible, but I usually fail in that respect. So, please REVIEW and tell me where I need to improve. If any of this was confusing, please let me know and I'll explain in the next chapter!

The Next Chapter will introduce the 'Randolph' family. Does that name sound familiar yet? Does it? Does it? Huh? Huh? Huh!?


	8. Burnt Biscuits, Burnt Porridge

**Chapter Eight**

**Burnt Biscuits, Burnt Porridge**

* * *

**Olive POV**

It has been my fifth or sixth day here, but, for some weird reason, it feels like I've been here much longer. I guess that's because of all the cleaning I've done. My muscles ache and I'm always tired. Everyone (with the exception of El's past-self) is very nice to me, and they treat me like... well, family.

Fear still courses through my veins sometimes. My fear narrows down to these two facts: I might be trapped in the past forever and I might never see my mother again.

'Maybe' has become a frequent word of mine, since I'm like a duck out of water here. All of the customs and rules are stupid. Ciel is always yapping away at how I'm 'supposed to act,' and if he talks one more time in that stupidly annoying British accent again, I'll push his past-self out of a mirror.

It's got me to thinking that Sebastian can't just trap me here! For one, I won't let him, and, for two, I'm not a scullery maid or a British or Scottish or whatever princess he said I was (Sebastian is excellent at navigating around the truth, but he cannot lie)! Why can't I just leave? I want to see Mom again! (I learned whining doesn't help either, after migraine-sufferer, Bardroy, threatened to cut out my tongue.)

Thinking about Mom, reminds me that she hasn't visited my dreams since that night when I saw that beast. Even in that horrifying state, some part of me wasn't disgusted or afraid of El. I saw true sadness and pain in his eyes, something Mom couldn't, or didn't want to, see.

Mom has been afraid of demons since I was small. I guess the reason why I'm not afraid is because she always told me that they can't hurt me. I'm immune; something I inherited from my father, even though he was only human.

Even so, I figure that's why Sebastian hasn't done anything to me yet. He's a very conflicted demon. Some examples are: He treats me like I'm a precious treasure, but makes me scrub floors. He calls me 'his daughter,' but talks of one day doing unspeakable things to me. He seems to like witches, but works for a family who used to burn them.

His attachment is unhealthy, and I think he realizes it. He has bathed me, tucked me into bed, kissed my forehead, and wiped away my tears every night since I've been in Ciel's manor. Afterwards, though, he lingers in the darkness, glaring at me with those piercing red orbs as though his very being is filled with nothing but hatred for me. I haven't opened my eyes once when he stands over me.

_"Are you alright?"_ El asked, mock-concern in his voice, as I wobbled along the floor, a heavy, water-filled bucket in tow. My scrawny arms trembled at the weight, and my stomach twisted and turned with nausea from the horrid breakfast Bard had...created...earlier.

"No, I'm not alright! I thought we were going to London today." I snapped, plopping the bucket to the ground. Its contents splashed onto the marble, and I let out an agitated groan. My lower back muscles and arms ached so badly that the cool marble floor seemed so welcoming, but it also infuriated me.

_"I never favored London."_ El responded, setting me off into an angry tyriad again. _"Calm down, will you?"_ He snarled.

"No, I won't calm down! I just want my mom!" I wailed, kicking the bucket over with my foot. I ignored his shouting, and took off towards the nearest door, intent on escaping this cramped, dreary place.

I pushed open the doors, and found myself in another part of the house. "This place is a maze! I want to get out of here!" I screamed. I clawed away at Mey-Rin's oversized dress, forcing it over my head. I let the itchy blue garment fall to the floor, and ignored El's complaints when I stood in the middle of the dining hall in a thin white nightdress. "Freedom." I breathed.

More doors and no results. No fresh air brushed against my cheek, no birds chirped into my ears. Only stuffy offices or bedrooms which smelled like mildew and were eerily silent. I ran through the hallways, which seemed never-ending, opening doors or banging against the ones that were locked.

"Where's the exit?" I demanded, but El didn't answer. "Where is it? I feel like I'm going to throw up!" I cried.

_"It's from all that bloody running, idiot!" _He chastised, before sighing in contempt. _"That door there."_ He motioned to a mahogany door in the middle of the hallway. _"It has a balcony."_

"Thank you!" I darted towards it, and forced it open. I anticipated fresh air, but instead my body slammed into another's, sending us both to the floor. The other person whipped around and pinned my arms to the ground. When I got my bearings, and my eyes adjusted to the light, I beheld a frightened, but beautiful pair of creamy brown eyes.

"Are you an angel?" I asked, staring dreamily at her perfect, angled face. The red-haired woman's beautiful eyes widened, before she broke out into a fit of laughter.

_"Madame Red..."_ El whispered. True surprise remained on his voice.

It was then I threw up burnt biscuits and burnt porridge, all over the angel-woman's beautiful red dress.

* * *

Sebastian inhaled, irritably, when he sensed the fat Professor Hughes heaving his way over the gate, like a true Humpty Dumpty, and onto the estate. After collecting himself off the ground, he usually made a beeline to Clove's stables, but, alas, today he made his way to the front doors, which meant Sebastian would have to interact with the pig like man.

The poor butler had been trying ever so hard to prepare. The unprecedented visit of Madame Red had been a unfortunate equation to tonight's dinner, but now Professor Hughes! He could not make enough food to secure _him_! To add insult to injury, the Italian fool, Damian was to arrive within three hours. Considering all of the tasks ahead of him, he doubted he would finish in time...

Bard had burnt the evening meal, Finni had destroyed the rose garden, Mey-Rin had slipped on a puddle (whom he assumed was Olivia's due to the kicked over bucket) and desecrated all of the cakes he had ordered from the bakery (Mey-Rin also managed to extirpate all of the fine China in the kitchen _and _dining area), and Tanaka suffered a tumble, due to a dress left on the floor, which resulted in all the shelves of the library falling over each other like dominos. Bard, the only one thinking during all of this, got the rather _bright _idea that setting fire to the books would improve the situation. Luckily, Sebastian had stopped him before he even acted on such an absurd conclusion!

Before Hughes could even raise his fist to knock, Sebastian opened the door and greeted him with a glare. Sebastian couldn't even force himself to smile.

"Professor Hughes," He spat, eyeing the trembling porker up and down. "What a _nice _surprise." His eyes narrowed when he noticed the way Hughes held his bandaged, broken arm. It had only been a hairline fracture.

_I suppose I do not know my own strength._ Sebastian decided.

Hughes cleared his throat, bringing Sebastian's black eyes back to his red-tinted face.

"Indeed. Might I speak with your Master for a moment?" He got straight to the point, so as to not be outside under the scrutinizing gaze of Noah, who lay sprawled across a tree from afar. His burnt-orange eyes held the fiery pits of Hell, and Hughes could feel the embers prickling his neck.

"I am terribly sorry to inform you, but the Young Master is bedridden. Regardless, the Young Master already received an invitation yesterday." Sebastian responded preparing to shut the door. Hughes forced his large bodice in through it, jamming it. He held up a white envelope in his pudgy fingers.

"Just deliver this again to Lord Phantomhive! It is an invitation to Madame de Berg's party tomorrow evening..." Hughes wheezed.

"The Young Master will be quite busy tomorrow." Sebastian tried to close the door again, but Hughes refused him.

_I have no time to clean blood off the doorway._ He thought, though the idea of hearing the man scream again made him almost giddy.

"Did I say tomorrow evening? I meant the day after tomorrows' evening!" Hughes cried.

Sebastian gave a roll of his eyes, snatched the letter from his fat hand, and spoke, "I will deliver it to the best of my ability, Sir. However, I do not promise results. The Young Master rather despises societal gathering. You shall be the first to know if it doesn't _work out_, I assure you." He smiled at the terrified expression on Hughes face. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

The fat man shook his head, and turned around, wobbling down the stairs and nearly landing face-flat. Sebastian smirked as he sauntered away, and slammed the door. He was met with that of Madame Red's laughter, then her scream.

_What now..._

* * *

Fear. It was an interesting thing. Hughes was not fearful as he wandered the dirt path away from the manor, until it became a tiny speck in the distance. He was actually rather annoyed. How dare that witch take away his best mare and arm like that! He thought about how much he'd like to ring her little devil-worshipping neck, but remembered that he was a Christian man…

Molesting and raping all three of his daughters, and seven of his nieces (he rather liked dressing up as Santa Clause), might have also contributed to the life of servitude he now had to endure. Though he doubted that, and decided, instead, that it had to be all Margaret de Berg's fault.

Noah dropped to the ground from a tree.

"Did you do as you were told?" He asked in that cool, apathetic tone of voice. "Her Grace will not be pleased if you failed."

Hughes fumbled with his pipe and a match. "She has demanded the impossible!" He cried. Angry tears filled his eyes. He wiped them away, and glared, hatefully, at Noah. "Don't you forget that I know what you do when Her Grace isn't looking! If you fail me one more time, Noah, I will reveal your filthy laundry, and you will permanently lose that little plaything of yours."

Noah's pale face remained emotionless. "Her Grace is a forgiving woman and she will not do away with you immediately, for men of your moral standards are far too difficult to find. _This _failure, however, will be the time she has me slice away the only _parts_ which you treasure the most." Noah's voice didn't change in pitch, and remained composed throughout the threat. Hughes slapped him across the face, leaving a red print on the boys' pale face.

He didn't react, which angered Hughes deeply. When he hit girls, they always reacted. Oh how he loved hearing women cry. He could never kill a woman, though he loved to torture her until she fell to his feet and pleaded for him to show mercy. He was a merciful man, of course.

"Remember your place, you heathen." The fat man snarled.


	9. Evil Cannot Sleep

**Chapter Nine**

**Evil Cannot Sleep**

* * *

_"Do you agree to the terms of a contract, Cressida Carlisle?" The sultry voice asked, passing my ears like silk._

_"Olivia... Olivia..."_

_I felt the air cool abruptly, and shivered as a cold hand pressed against my face._

_"Without my assistance, you will not be able to save your daughter. The Demon Mafia has captured her." Said the voice._

_Pain struck my insides, which felt so open and vulnerable. This feeling of loss had returned again, this time more overwhelming then ever before. "I could save her..." I couldn't hide the sob in my tone._

_"The demons overwhelmed me, and you died." He responded coolly._

_I suddenly realized why I felt so torn apart. Blood seeped through the towel drapped over my lower half. When I went to remove it, a blackened hand with black talons stopped me. _

_"We haven't time." The voice said. "Shall you damn yourself for eternity in turn for your child?"_

_My eyes began to blur, not with tears. The rapidly passing cinematic record began to pull me away._

_"Cres, do you love me?" He asked._

_"John," I realized upon seeing the tall, black haired man in one of the memories. "Yes."_

* * *

Cressida woke up with a start. The nightmare left her heart drumming in her chest, to the point the bed vibrated below her.

She immediately brought her hand to her swollen forehead. She winced at the pain both from the lump and her attempts to sit up. Her attention was immediately brought to something else.

"Where the Hell are we? And what am I wearing?" She growled in the direction of the demon lounging in a chair.

His red eyes flicked to her, eyeing her attractive bodice in the revealing red silk nightie. He brought his eyes back to his book.

"The human police arrived a mere hour after you lost consciousness. Your garments were too filthy for further use." He responded pointedly.

"You hit me on the head, you dirty creature!" Cressida hissed, opening the curtains. The sunlight shone in, blinding her for a moment. She turned away, and caught hold of the single bed in the room. Her eyes widened. "Where is Ciel?"

Sebastian shut his book with a heavy sigh. "I am no longer contracted to the little heathen. My contract gave way at exactly midnight, due to his comatose state." He replied, coolly.

His collar suddenly tightened around his throat, and his slim body rose into the air. He let out a gagged sound.

Cressida using magic slammed him against the wall, like a rag doll, leaving an imprint of his body desecrated into the surface.

"Where _is _he?" She spat.

Sebastian smirked. "During a bout of brief consciousness, you agreed to the circumstances of a contract. I serve _you _now. Whatever end you choose, I obey; for all the time of your life, until death do I part from you, will I remain by your side... Milady." The last word lingered on his lips.

"I agreed to no such thing!" Cressida shouted, but her memory quickly returned to her. The nightmare she had. It hadn't been a dream. It was very real. It took her a moment to digest all of the information, before it finally sunk in.

Her face became white, as though she had seen a ghost (which she more or less had). Her chest felt heavy from all the tears she held in.

Cressida slowly reached for her forehead, where she felt the demons' mark burning against her skin. Sebastian landed gracefully back on the ground.

He tidied his suit and readjusted his tie. "Even I was quite upset upon seeing it. Though it will heal, it takes away from the beauty of your face." Sebastian sighed, disappointedly.

When she didn't respond, he moved one of her velvety black curls away from her forehead, admiring his handiwork. It glowed a slight red, due to the natural heat radiating off her body. She trembled under his touch.

"I see that is not what worries you, Milady. Perhaps you should sleep on it." He roughly grasped her chin, forcing her eyes to his face.

Upon digesting the hateful look in her expression, did he instictively pull away. Nothing had ever looked at him that way. She shoved him backwards, and he stumbled back into the chair.

"An evil person cannot sleep till they do evil; they are robbed of slumber till they make someone fall." Cressida muttered. Her glare was vicious, still grasping that hatred for him in her eyes.

She turned her back to him, but hesitated. Her hand suddenly whipped across his face.

Sebastian, stunned by the pain on his cheek, gingerly touched the area she had hit him. It hurt. How was that possible?

"Unless you have a death wish, you filthy, disgusting snake, you will not withhold any useful information you know. Your previous master may not have had the ability to kill you, but I do!" She yelled, preventing her tempered hand from hitting him again. She lowered her clenched hands to her sides. "Damn you, bastard! If not your previous master have you betrayed, but my blood as well! What sort of demon allows such thing to occur?"

Sebastian's hand wrapped around her delicate neck, clenching it so tight he could feel her last breath traveling into her lungs before being trapped by his grip.

Cressida stared, fearfully, into his angry, glowing red eyes.

It was odd how much lovelier the witch was when she was scared. In fact, it made Sebastian rather lustful. The desire to ravish the vivacious little body of hers until she cried out in both agony and pleasure came to him. Realizing this, he quickly released her

_Not yet._ He decided, placing his hand to his chest. The black mark on his hand glowed a bloodred. _An honorable butler doesn't rape his master, though I suppose I am not a butler anymore._

"Yes, Milady."

* * *

**1888**

_~The day before~_

It had become a regular habit for Olive to talk to herself, Sebastian noticed. The demon possessing her obviously entertained her, and though he found her mindless conversations rather endearing, the Young Master in particular felt rather unnerved by it.

"She's as mad as a hatter!" Ciel commented as he devoured his blueberry scones.

He had already gone through three, which Sebastian would normally forbid. That is if Olive wasn't there. He did, in fact, have to be on his best behavior to keep his little... prize.

"While she was cleaning out the fireplace," Ciel continued, "she kept chattering on about some sort of comittee and fairies! I couldn't get any paperwork done at all!" Specks of food flew from the boys' mouth and onto the table, causing the butlers' eye to twitch.

Ciel usually ate heavily when he was agitated or nervous, leaving Sebastian wondering where exactly all the dessert items he shoveled into his mouth went. In the back of the demons' head he hoped that the little bastard would become round and plump, like the poor, fat Professor Hughes.

"I quite apologize for my daughter, Young Master. Her mother dropped her repeatedly on the head as an infant." Sebastian responded, forcing himself to ignore the speck of food.

Ciel forced a large amount of scone down his throat with a gulp of tea, dabbed at his lips with his napkin, then resigned to huffing (a tad indignantly). This behavior only lasted a moment before he wondered, "Has all been prepared for the arrival of Mr. Damian, the Italian fool, tomorrow evening?"

Sebastian nodded his head, once. "The other servants have been working _religiously _since the early hours of this morning. I was quite impressed by their efforts, in fact."

"You? Impressed?" Ciel stifled a snicker. "Shall the pigs be taking flight later this evening?" He added, sarcastically.

Sebastian smiled, calmly. "Will Mr. Damian suffice?"

Ciel smirked. "Be sure to give him the best Phantomhive treatment, Sebastian."

The butler came upon a letter on his tray, addressed to the head of the house. Another party invitation, which his Young Master would surely decline.

Sebastian dutifully (albeit with a roll of his eyes) held the letter out in front of Ciel's face.

"Speaking of pigs, this letter came in through the mail earlier. It is from the highly respectable Professor Hughes.."

"What in God's name for?" Ciel grumbled, snatching the ivory-colored envelope from his butler. He took his letter-opening knife, and tore through it. The writing was very lovely, and at the bottom was the de Berg stamp. Two swords crossing in front of a door.

"Another letter was addressed to the servants earlier this morning. In approximately three nights from now, Duchess de Berg is hosting a party at her estate. I presume the letter is an invitation, though her invite gives little time for preparation." Sebastian responded.

"It susprises me little. She is an abrupt, ignorant woman. Though my absence would bring reproach to the Phantomhive name-," Ciel threw the letter aside, into a large stack of other party invitations. "-I do not care for societal get-togethers. Especially ones hosted by _that gossip_, no matter her title."

"You do not care for the Duchess de Berg?" Sebastian wondered, taking the empty plate off Ciel's desk and placing it onto the tray.

"I suppose you should be aware of this. My grandmother was nearly swindled of the Phantomhive estate by Margaret de Berg." Ciel explained with a roll of his eyes.

"I was unaware your grandmother is alive. You have not visited her once in my time here." Sebastian mused.

"Hardly alive. Grandmother resides in a facility in London. After her sons' death, she was diagnosed clinically insane."

"I see." The butler murmured. "I would very much like to meet her. Perhaps..."

"I have no intention of visiting that useless woman." The boy snarled, turning his chair to face Sebastian. "I grow weary of your delay. Prepare for Mr. Damian's arrival. Now."

"Yes, Milord." He exited the room, leaving the boy alone to his brooding.

Ciel tried to twist the ring around his pinky finger, but let out a yelp when it tightened.

_"That which defines you shall end you."_

It was then that a sharp pain clawed its way through Ciel's head, causing him to buckle in pain.

* * *

Angelina had arrived the very next morning, concerned when she got word of her nephew's condition.

The migraine had been persistent since yesterday, aching over his eye where the contract was. The pain was so bad, he could not even bring his body out of bed let alone his head off the pillows.

Much of Ciel's face had lost its color, even his hair seemed duller. It was almost as though the boy was fading away.

"I've never seen anything like this." Angelina Durless said, lightly touching Ciel's oily forhead but quickly withdrawing when he groaned.

A permanent, sad frown remained on her face. The moment she heard of her nephew's ailment, she had rushed over with her own butler, Grell Sutcliff. Sebastian was unsure how she unearthed this information on Ciel's health, but he presumed it had something to do with the overly dramatic grim reaper standing sheepishly outside the the room.

"It feels like a fever of the brain, and the only way to alieviate the symptoms would be to bleed him." She said, glancing up at Sebastian. "What exactly has he been in contact with?"

"I presume you are referring to 'whom'." The dutiful butler defined, eyeing her. "There has been a new addition to the staff here, though I doubt she could invoke such a sickness."

Angelina breathed, sharply, in through her nose. Ciel was the only family God left behind for her. She may not have been a sinless woman. She may have despised her own sister and hated Rachel's good fortune and beautiful child. But she could not allow the boy to die under such circumstances. It would ruin all of her plans if the position of Queen's Dog transferred to the despicable Trancy family. They had more societal resources than the Phantomhive's, and Angelina's thirst for vengeance had not quite been satiated yet.

"I am unaware how Ciel acquired such a strange group of servants. For his sake, I will not delve into the matter. However," Her eyes narrowed. "If you are somehow responsible for his worsening condition, I will have Grell throw you back into the gutter you crawled out of."

Sebastian smiled. "You may rest assured that it would not benefit me to have my Young Master die so early in the game." He mused, causing Angelina's calm composure to sour and her chin to jutt out. She wasn't sure which game he was referring to. Hers or his own.

Whatever she wanted to say, she managed to bite back with her teeth. Angelina resigned herself to walking away. Though she rarely listed to her father's advice, she learned that being a pacifist in such situations resulted in the other party feeling (for lack of better words) stupid. Additionally, Angelina desperately wanted to wash herself of Sebastian's wickedness, which felt like a heavy, dirty cloak on her small frame.

"I will be occupying the guest room until Ciel shows improvement. While I am here, perhaps Grell could give you some lessons. You seem a tad disheveled." With a small smile and an irritated look from the handsome butler, Madame Red shut the door.

"You should not provoke a demon." Grell snickered, having heard the entire conversation.

In response, she rolled her eyes. "I want you to find out who the new servant is. Or _what _she is." She hesitated a moment, unsure whether to ask this of her butler. It wouldn't hurt to. "Do you know the illness?"

Grell's Cheshire grin vanished.

"I'm afraid I do not. You may find comfort in his death not being recorded. The T.K.O. is very particular about narrowing deaths down to the last second." The grim reaper muttered.

He did not like seeing his Red Lady reflect such emotions. Sadness simply did not suit the color red at all.

"Well, I suppose there is nothing else I can do." Angelina murmured, rubbing at her swollen, calloused fingers. It was not an easy task to kill another person. It took a toll on her body, and her vanity.

* * *

_Where we left off..._

"You seem to have the brain fever as well. You're hot to the touch." The red-haired angel, Angelina, said while withdrawing her hand from my forehead. She ignored the puke which sullied her dress, and Sebastian who, half-heartedly, stood in the corner of the room. He seemed in a terrible mood.

A normal person would have apologized for creating such a mess. Not me. "That green color looks good on you."

She blinked, oddly, at me. "Are you experiencing any strange symptoms?"

El was on a rampage, and I cleaned out my ear with my pinky. "My head hurts a little." I grumbled, staring at the earwax.

Angelina glared over at Sebastian.

"It seems it is in fact contagious." She said, bringing her creamy caramel eyes back to face me. "I will have to bleed Ciel, who has the worse symptoms. I will do the same for you."

I felt my heart drop. "That isn't it at all!" I cried, jumping off the chair. There was a brief pause in time as I thought of the results of whatever I said:

One) I could suffer through being sliced open. The upside would be I could retain whatever fragments of dignity I had left.

Two) I could try to explain my wild story to these two, and be shoved into a mental institution. The upside would be getting away from this place.

Three) Lie. Upside: dignity intact and escape plausible.

"This is a spiritual sickness," I said, motioning around me with my thin arms. "I know how to cure myself and the Young Master. No amount of modern medicine will help."

"What do you suggest?" She asked.

"I have a relative in London... I think she knows plants and stuff. She could cure us!" My lie was crumbling as I told it.

I had no idea if my distant aunt Iris was even alive in this time period (I only knew about her 'cause everyone said we could be twins). But it gave a reason why I needed to go to London.

For some reason all the lies I had told to these nice people tallied in my head. Mom always said that if I lied to much, I wouldn't be able to differentiate the truth and the lie. At this point, believing my own lies has made me more efficient in telling them...

I claimed to be a Horse Whisperer, because everyone thought Clove was blind when he and his master are really just stubborn jackasses (and I _might have, maybe_ stolen some sugar cubes from the kitchen).

I lied to Mey-Rin that I had fragile bones so I didn't have to wear a corset.

I lied to Finni that I was allergic to the outdoors (how was I supposed to know he'd believe me and try to destroy everything?! More or less, though, I think he destroyed the rose garden on accident).

I think the worse of my lies was to Bard, though. I said...his food was delicious.

"I think it is worth a try." Angelina suddenly said.

Sebastian's shoulders straightened, automatically. He didn't like the idea, I could tell, but a part of him seemed too tired to complain. Dark circles hid underneath his eyes, and lines creased around his mouth and on his forehead.

"What is this plant specialists' name?" He asked in an uncharacteristically pained tone.

_"What if this herbologist isn't even in this timeframe?"_ El snapped, causing me to jump. He had been quiet for so long. _"They will think you are not only a liar, but the reason as to why I'm sick!"_

"Her name is Iris Randall." I responded, causing Sebastian's eyes to widen. "Her husbands' name is Arthur Randall... They are my really distant relatives... On my mothers' side."

"Sir Arthur Randall of Scotland Yard?" Angelina mumbled, and I swallowed.

_Is that the right person? I don't remember Great Uncle Arthur being a police officer..._ I wondered.

"I will send for his wife immediately." Sebastian said, suddenly.

"Are you sure she makes house-calls?" She asked.

"We will have to see, now won't we, Madam Red? If you will excuse me," He bowed, and signaled me to follow.

"Are you stupid?" He demanded as we wandered down the hallway. "No witch in her right mind would come here."

My stomach fell. I had forgotten that I was in the Phantomhive Manor. The air here permanently smelled of ash and death. "How else will Ciel get better?" I whispered, kneading my fists into the soft dark blue robe I had been given to cover my "nudity". When I first put it on, it smelled like tea leaves and cinnamon.

Sebastian opened a door, and lead me into it. Next to a small desk was an old-fashioned telephone. He closed the door, and forced me to sit on an old pine chair. He sat down across from me.

"Whatever illness the Young Master has fallen under, I feel it as well." Sebastian admitted, allowing his back to arch downwards. He dug his hands into his head, causing blood to stain his white gloves. When black began to consume his body, and blood gushed from his mouth onto the floor, I panicked.

"What's going on, Sebastian?" I cried, forcing his head up. His face felt soft, like bird's feathers, but in a split second they sliced at my hands like a million paper cuts. I backed away, against the wall.

_"Sebastian,"_ El shouted, angrily. I guess he was hoping for some sort of miracle. He let his guard down for that brief second, and I felt all of the frustration he had from not being heard. _"Control yourself, damn you!"_

"I don't think he can hear you!" I cried. Feathers scratched at my face, and I used the robe to shield me, though they easily sliced through the thin material.

A thin, warm hand grabbed me from the dark room, and tossed me onto the floor.

Grell slammed the door shut. "A bit angry, I see." He grunted when pounding resounded against the door.

His yellow eyes, behind fancy red glasses, glanced to me.

"We don't have time to call for a plant lady, Little Witch." A wild, sharp-toothed grin stretched unnaturally across his face. "I'll hold off the sour-puss."

* * *

Author's Note:

I hope you guys liked this chapter, and thank you for reviewing! I'll try to come out with chapters faster from now on. PLEASE REVIEW AGAIN!


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